In One Instant
by Tabby Kitten
Summary: In one instant, Susan's family and everything she knows is gone. How can you recover from that?
1. Chapter 1

"Susan, dear, are you sure you don't want to come to the train station with us to pick them up?" Helen Pevensie stood in the doorway, watching her eldest daughter's back bend as she leaned into the mirror to apply her lipstick.

"I'm quite sure Mum, really. Catherine and Maryanne invited me over for tea, and then we might go and look at the shops." Susan decided not to mention that she also didn't want to go because she had had another nasty fight with Lucy. She'd said some things she now regretted, and didn't want to deal with those emotions on a crowded train platform.

"Well, Dad and I are headed out. Oh, I do hope they had a nice stay in the country."

Susan set the lipstick down and leaned back, allowing herself to dwell on memories of that house in the country. That was where they'd found Nar—that place. Where they'd found that place and had that adventure. Now her siblings had gone back for a weekend, with their little group, The Seven Friends of Narnia. Susan shuddered. The whole thing was rather silly, like beating a dead horse. They weren't going back, any of them, and it was silly to dream they could. You had to live in the world you were in, not the one wished you could be in.

Susan picked up her handbag and turned out the lights, then locked the front door and headed toward Catherine's house.

Catherine had laid out a delicate platter of cookies and was making a steaming pot of tea. Maryanne was sitting next her in a flowered armchair, paging through a magazine.

"Susan! I'm so glad you could come!" Catherine set down the teapot and leapt to hug her friend.

"There's so much we have to talk about!" Maryanne squealed. "Did you hear what Dale Heatherwick said to Eunice Earnhart? And you simply must see these!" She opened the magazine to reveal photos of the latest designs by Cristian Dior.

"No, I didn't hear about that nor did I see those." Said Susan, reaching for the magazine.

"What's been going on with you?" Said Catherine. "Another fight with your sister?" She added, seeing the look on Susan's face.

Susan nodded. "It's just that she can be so incredibly stubborn and childish sometimes. She refuses to stop living in the past."

"Lucy's an odd girl." Said Maryanne.

"A little strange maybe, but she's a sweet and engaging child." Said Catherine, throwing a pointed look at Maryanne.

Sensing she had gone too far, Maryanne reached over and turned on the radio. "A serious accident at Kings Cross Station . . ." Maryanne reached over and turned up the volume, trying to hear the reporter better. "A train has crashed into platform seven. Multiple fatalities have been confirmed."

Susan jumped up, nearly spilling her tea. "The train station—God, my family . . . I hope . . ." She didn't finish the sentence, staring at the wobbling cup of tea in her shaking hands.

"Go." Said Catherine. "I'll take that cup, go to your family."

Susan turned and ran out of the room, down the hallway and through the front door. She careened through the streets, wobbling in her high heels, bent only on getting to that station.

"Taxi . . . taxi!" She wailed, waving her hand in the air. One stopped in front of her.

"Where to, Ma'am?"

"Kings Cross Station, as fast as possible." She shouted, climbing into the back. The driver nodded and took off. True to his word, he drove through the streets like a madman, weaving between car and narrowly dodging pedestrians, but getting her there in record time. Almost before the car stopped, she threw a wad of cash at him and ran into the building.

She charged past platforms and pushed through confused crowds, searching, searching—there! She ran to the platform and stopped short at what she saw. The train had indeed crashed into the platform. It lay broken and twisted in a bed of crushed bodies and bricks. The smells of fire and fuel and blood were thick on the air. Emergency workers were already there pulling bodies from the rubble, and those who were lucky enough to escape unscathed were walking away. Susan began scrambling over the rough bricks and twisted pieces of metal, calling desperately for her family.

 _Oh please let them be all right. Please tell me they were on a different platform._ Susan felt her heart climb into her throat as she searched, still seeing nothing, hoping against hope that Peter or Lucy would tap her on the shoulder and tell her she'd gone to the wrong platform. She turned her head, looking toward the bodies on stretchers—

"Edmund!" She ran toward him, cradling his bloodied head in her lap. He was still alive, but only just. His legs were bent at odd angles and he was covered in blood.

"Edmund! Can you here me? You'll be all right, I promise!" She took folds of her skirt in her hands and desperately tried to staunch the flow of blood.

"No . . ." He whispered. "No, Su, it's too late."

"Don't say that!" She sobbed. "We'll find you a doctor."

"No. I can already see him. Aslan. He's come for me."

"No, Edmund, stay with me. Please!"

"Su . . . don't lose sight. He hasn't given up on you." The light behind his eyes went dark and his head dropped into Susan's hands. She gasped and let out a long, horrible scream, then fell over his body and began to sob. Then the strong hands of an emergency worker pulled her away and helped her to sit up. Someone handed her a glass of water, but se was sobbing too hard to drink it. The world had stopped. Nothing would ever be the same. It would never be ok. But she had to find the rest of her family. She owed it to them.

She picked herself up and began frantically pawing through rubble, searching for anything that could be connected to them. Her heart nearly stopped as she pulled a small hat from under a brick. She'd bought this hat herself and given to Lucy last Christmas. Now it was bent out of shaped, charred, and stained with ash and blood. It felt like being stabbed in the heart. Despite everything Susan had said and done to Lucy, Lucy had still chosen to wear that hat today.

"Lucy!" Susan called. "Where are you? I'm sorry! And I'll buy you a new hat. Lu!" Susan turned around. Lucy was lying on a stretcher a few feet away. Her clothes were charred and her legs were crushed and bloody. Her face was smooth and pale like a full moon. Susan ran to her and grabbed her hand, but it was cold.

If the world had stopped before, now every last piece of it came grinding to a halt. In one instant, everything she had with Lucy was gone, their past, their present, a future they could have had. Susan remembered the angry words she'd spoken the last time they were together, words that now hung in the air without resolution. She would never be able to apologize for them, never be able to fix the rift she'd created. The tears came on stronger this time, pouring down her face the way the river had poured through the fords of Beruna in happier times. She reached out a shaking hand and carefully brushed a fleck of blood off Lucy's cheek. She felt that she had died too, and yet her own heart beat faster and faster, stubbornly refusing to let her follow Lucy into the world beyond. She sat back, suddenly feeling dizzy as her heart pounded in her chest. Her skin felt clammy and her hands were shaking worse. She remembered trying to lean back a bit, but then everything went dark.

"Susan? Su, can you hear me?"

Susan blearily opened her eyes to find Catherine and Maryanne standing over her. "What—what happened? Where am I?"

"You passed out. We found you on this bench, with an old woman sitting next to you and holding your hand. She said you must've gone into shock."

"I—I was sitting with Lucy. Then I felt dizzy and everything went dark." She sat up and saw she was lying on a bench in the station.

"Su, if you're feeling up to it . . . we have to go to the morgue." Said Catherine softly. "The authorities want you there."

"If you're not ready for that, we can go later." Maryanne added.

"No. I need to go. It's the least I can do. Help me stand up."

Maryanne and Catherine took her arms and pulled her off the bench, then began to walk her through the station. As they passed platform seven, Susan turned her head to watch the workers, continuing to clear the rubble. There was so much of it. She wanted to stay and watch, but Catherine and Maryanne were already leading her away and into a cab.

Susan didn't speak on the way to the morgue, but only leaned her head against the window and stared out. The sun was thankfully gone today, leaving only a numb, grey-white sky. The sun could never come back. The world could never be that bright again.


	2. Chapter 2

Walking into the morgue, they saw dozens and dozens bodies laid out, all of them broken and twisted and bloodied. Susan Pevensie had seen war. She'd been twelve when the blitz had started, and seen boatloads of wounded soldiers come back home. In Narnia, she'd seen countless men, fauns, centaurs, and talking animals go down fighting. She'd helped Lucy treat wounds and buried many beloved friends in Narnia. But nothing could have prepared her for seeing the bodies of so many innocent people like this. They'd made no choice to die. They didn't go down fighting for a cause they believed in. They were there one minute and gone the next.

The first one that she recognized was Jill Pole. One of the Narnia fanatics her siblings had befriended. Susan had only met the girl a few times, but she seemed bright and friendly. She was so young. Too young for this. Too young for the morgue freezer and the body bag and the dried blood in her hair.

Next to Jill was Professor Kirke. A flash of guilt flooded Susan's body as she looked down at his broken form. He'd been so kind to open his home to them during the war, and so knowledgeable about Narnia. They'd spent hours with him after they came back the first time, talking about what they had seen. She'd politely thanked him when they left, and kept in touch with him for a while. After their second adventure with Caspian, it became harder and harder to write to him until she quit altogether. He would've helped her, she realized now, helped her deal with not being able to go back.

"I'm sorry, Professor." She whispered. "I really am."

Beyond him was cousin Eustace. His parents weren't there. Had anyone told them yet? Her annoying cousin Eustace. She'd had no time for him until he came for Christmas after his first Narnia adventure, and to her great surprise started talking to Edmund and Lucy about Galma and Terabinthia, the islands she'd visited so many times. It was painful listening to them talk about the places she'd lost, and she had run out of the room. Now she wished she'd taken the time to get to know him better.

Polly Plummer—another Friend of Narnia she hadn't cared enough to talk to. Why was she like this? What had she become? Queen Susan of Narnia would have made it a point to befriend everyone. But she wasn't a queen anymore. That was all gone.

Edmund and Lucy. She'd seen them in the station, but that didn't make it hurt any less now. They weren't supposed to die here and now. They were supposed to grow old, and she was supposed to die first. She was older, it was only right.

"Susan." Catherine's voice was very soft. "They want you to help them identify some."

"No. Not another body" Fear squeezed Susan's heart like ice.

A man in a white coat gestured to a sheet-covered form on another table. He pulled it back to reveal a face so beaten and bloodied it was nearly unrecognizable. But Susan kew that face anywhere.

"No! Not you too." Her legs collapsed and she fell to the ground, weeping. Now she really truly was alone, the last one left. Any shred of hope that one of her siblings had survived was gone, crushed like they had been in the train. Peter had been the one person she could always turn to, the one with more experience, the one who knew what she didn't. What was she supposed to do now?

"Peter Pevensie. That's definitely him." Catherine's voice sounded as if it came from a long way away.

"No, it can't be!" Susan wailed. She reached for his wrist, hoping for a pulse, but she didn't know what she was looking for.

"His death has been confirmed." Said the worker, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "There's nothing more you can do. You'll need to collect their personal effects and make arrangements."

"Why me? My parents . . . "

"They were standing near the edge of the platform and were killed upon impact. I'm sorry."

A wave of grief, like fire and yet coldest snowmelt, rushed through her body. Her knees collapsed again and she knelt on the ground, choking on her on saliva. Her face was hot and sticky and she could only see her own hair hanging over her eyes. But then there was a set of soft hands on her shoulders.

"It's gonna be all right." Catherine began rubbing Susan's back in long, slow circles. "We'll make it through this. I promise."


	3. Chapter 3

"It's evident that as your family's sole beneficiary, you have become a quite rich woman." Said the lawyer.

Susan looked down at the table where her family's wills were spread out. Her parents' wills had been drawn up years and years ago, and they had not expected to need them for years and years more. Peter had drawn up his when he was eighteen and thought he might go to war. Thankfully their parents had responded with a resounding no. Edmund had been rather young when he drew his up, not long after returning from their second Narnia adventure. She still remembered him telling her in a deadpan tone that they all died eventually so you might as well get your affairs in order now. Lucy didn't even have a will.

She'd inherited quite a lot; everything her family had that wasn't going outside the family was going to her. She was rich. What did it matter anymore?

She wasn't even sure what all her family had left behind. Each had had a list of possessions, then beyond that each had their own secrets. Then there were the family's personal effects recovered from the scene of the crash. Her parents' wedding rings. Peter's wallet, neatly stuffed with money and ration coupons. Her mother's handbag. Edmund's wallet, with random scraps of paper sticking out the edges. A necklace with a small silver lion pendant that had belonged to Lucy, as well as the small hat that she was still holding.

"I believe that's everything I needed to go over with you." Said the lawyer. "You're free to go now."

Susan nodded and carefully gathered up her family's things, clutching Lucy's necklace in her fist.

Home was hollow and dark in the fading light. It was impossible to think it had been bright and warm just a few hours ago.

Susan caught sight of herself in a mirror and gasped. She'd lost her hat somewhere along the way. Her face was coated in grime except for where shining tear tracks cut through. Her skirt was torn and bloodstained, long runs traversed her stockings, and her shoes were scuffed and scratched. She kicked off the shoes and wandered, trance-like, into the house. With slow, methodical movements she unbuttoned her sweat-soaked jacket and placed it on the kitchen table along with most of her family's things.

She couldn't look away. Two wallets. Two rings. A handbag. A dirty hat. A tiny necklace. They should go where they belonged. But she shivered as she looked toward the stairs and the closed doors to the bedrooms. So she left them in a neat pile on the table and sat down. A small sound from the entryway caught her ear. She looked up and saw Catherine standing there.

"Go away, Catherine."

"I don't want to leave you."

"Please, Catherine. I need to be alone right now."

"Alright. Please, Susan call me if you need anything."

As the door closed behind Catherine, Susan stood up and took off her skirt. The practical part of her brain said to wash it, that maybe the stains would come out, that the tears could be mended. Another part of her brain—perhaps the latent gentle queen—told her to leave it. Edmund's head had lain on this skirt. It was her last physical contact with her family. She took it and pressed it into her nose, hoping to catch a familiar scent, but was met only with the sharp odor of blood. She set the skirt on the table and turned to her ruined stockings. She grabbed a loose thread and pulled and pulled until they were little more than a pile of thread. What did nice stockings matter now?

As Susan sat down again her breath caught sharp in her chest. The tears came as the horrible realization sank in again. She was alone. Lucy and Peter and Edmund and all the others were dead. Her eyes glided up to a picture on the wall. Her graduation photo. Her seventeen-year-old face, slathered in red lipstick. She'd been so naive, wanting to live alone, away from her family. She'd been so, so stupid. She screamed, then hurled one of her shoes at the photo. The glass shattered and the frame fell to the ground. She flopped on the floor next to it and continued to sob, until her head pounded and her eyes were sore. When she finally came up for air, it was even darker outside. She laid her head back down and closed her eyes, and before she knew it she was asleep.


End file.
